


Caught on in a Flash

by villainsarebetter (darkling59)



Series: Monster Month [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Creature Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling59/pseuds/villainsarebetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One finds himself in need of the scales of a specific sort of dragon to complete a deal. Lucky for him, Belle has exactly the sort of scales he needs…but whether she’ll give them to him willingly is another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll admit, I kind of feel like I’m cheating with this one, both because it’s a canon divergence rather than straight up AU (like the centaur fic I’m going to post tomorrow), but also because both characters are relatively human-shaped for most of the fic. Shapeshifted, but still humanoid.
> 
> And…there will (hopefully) be two updates today! Because, remarkably, I find myself with extra fics and I want to do a drabble/prompt thing on Saturday, rather than posting another fic.

The first time Rumpelstiltskin met Belle of the Marchlands it was by design and fully planned for his own benefit. Everyone knew about the former princess; how in a desperate bid to drive back the ogres menacing her lands, she’d turned to the darkest of sorcery. How her kingdom, in desperation, assisted in her bid for such evil power. How, in her inexperience and darkness, she turned herself into a slavering monster - a dragon, of fangs and fire, scales and wings. How, in grief and horror, her noble father was forced to disown his only child, rejecting her villainy for the sake of his kingdom, going so far as to reject that the dark creature had ever been his daughter at all, even though the transformation had been in the light of day, in full view of several companies of soldiers and peasants.

Personally, Rumpelstiltskin thought the king’s tale was selfish idiocy. He knew full well what it felt like to be faced with ogres, to know everything and everyone you loved was about to die – that hardly translated as _evil_. And he could not help but observe that the girl’s scheme – self destructive as it had become – _worked_.

When faced by a fire breathing dragon, the ogres fled, leaving the Marchlands in peace. The only magical creature remaining was the dragon-princess, and she had never hurt a single human, burned a single field of crops, or knocked down so much as a peasant hovel.

The stories left out that part too.

However, for all that Rumpelstiltskin could understand her plight and her rejection, it was none of his business. She was not an acquaintance of his, no one had ever bid him to interfere on her behalf, and doing so would not assist his goals in any way. Therefore, beyond a brief spike of nostalgic empathy (quickly faded and suppressed by his curse), he avoided the entire situation at the time of its occurrence.

It was a year later that he found himself dealing with a sea dweller, a shepherd of the capricorns, who wanted a necklace of gold and dragon scales the color of the sea to protect her form the paralyzing tentacles of the kraken that called her herd prey. In return, she offered a vial of squid ink harvested in the waters of Neverland.

Useful, but expensive. Normal wild dragons – _natural_ beasts – only came in shades of black, brown, and green. And there was only one unnatural beast in the color desired by the sea-herder.

It took a month for the Dark One to find the former Princess and study her to his satisfaction. She’d taken shelter in the mountains beyond the Marchlands, just beyond the border of the lands that men could reach. It was obvious she had no idea what she was doing; there was little shelter in the mountains and less prey. The tall conifers were patchy and sparse and provided no shelter. She had not sought out a cave to sleep in and she was a horrible hunter. Hidden from sight, sound, and smell, he watched her attempt to stalk prey on five separate occasions and she failed every single time.

Whatever spell had granted her the use of a dragon form had not come with the instincts necessary to actually _be_ a dragon.

Had she not been able to shapeshift back to human, she likely would have been dead.

Because, yes, to his surprise she could look human.

Every few days, she flew down the mountain and disguised herself as a peasant to avoid her father’s guards, sneaking into the border towns of her old home country and trading whatever paltry supplies she’d been able to gather. It was just barely enough to keep her alive.

Rumpelstiltskin judged that she should respond well to a simple deal; a few spools of gold in exchange for a dozen scales. With gold, she could feed and clothe herself, start a new life instead of clinging to the frayed edges of her former existence. Besides, it wasn’t like she would miss a few scales – they would grow back with a year or so. Hardly any time at all.

With that firmly in mind, and full confidence in his ability to make a beneficial deal, he approached her one day as she was walking back from the village, shoulders drooping a she looked at the paltry loaf of bread and salted meat in her hands.

* * *

“My, my, isn’t that a sorry sight?”

Belle’s head snapped up, scanning the ever-empty woods for the malicious, mocking voice. It was high pitched but dangerous, pushing every warning button in the back of her mind. Phantom wings flexed at her back as she prepared to transform. If anyone thought she was an easy target, they had a nasty surprise coming.

But it wasn’t a bandit that stepped out of the trees.

She didn’t know _what_ the creature was.

“I beg your pardon?”

The creature made a quiet tutting sound and took an odd bouncing step to the side, into the center of the trail so she would have no choice but to brush past him if she wanted to continue. Belle stayed where she was.

“A noble, a _princess_ , living like _this_.” The creature’s tone mocked the titles, but it was the words that put her teeth on edge. She hadn’t been a princess since her father’s decision became final and she’d come to terms with that fact. However, the only ones who called her that were the knights and heroes that tried to kill her, seeking the fame and fortune that would come from ridding the world of a ‘monster’.

Belle swallowed, bitter fear rising in her chest. She wasn’t happy or even content in her new life, but at least she was alive. This creature sought to upset the fragile balance currently keeping her afloat. There was one very obvious response she could have to his accusation, but even in this situation, even with what she was and his inhumanity, she did not want to hurt anyone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie was thick on her tongue and didn’t fool her opponent for a second.

Rumpelstiltskin giggled, a high uneven sound that never failed to put his targets on edge.

“Well then, if you’ve truly never heard of Princess Belle of the Marchlands, then I suppose my message is not for you.” He stepped aside with a flourish, mocking in its unnecessary extravagance.

“A message?” Belle questioned slowly, watching him warily. “From who?”

“Well, if you’re not Princess Belle then I hardly see how that’s any business of yours.” He straightened and eyed her with a cocked head, then stepped forward, suddenly slower and more intimidating for it. He waited until they were mere feet apart before continuing. “But be wary, dearie. I hear there are _dragons_ about.”

Belle flinched but straightened with as much pride as she could while dressed in a ragged peasant dress with the feral instincts of a dragon pounding at her chest, and meager supplies clutched in her hands. Banished or not, she refused to be cowed by this…beast.

“I am Belle.” Her voice was strong and Rumpelstiltskin settled back on his heels, satisfied and even vaguely impressed. “You have a message for me?”

“Well…” He hm’d, then smirked. “More like a deal.”

“A…deal?”

“That’s right. A simple trade! You have something I want, and I -.” He ran a scornful stare up and down her ragged form. “I have something you _need_.”

The entire situation was setting all the alarms screaming in the back of Belle’s head, but her curiosity was too strong. This was dangerous but it was also interesting. And she’d been lost in a lonely dull struggle for survival for too long. This time, she was the one to take a step forward.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

The Dark One blinked at the dragon-princess. She was not supposed to ask him that. What was the deal, who was he, what was he, how had he found her…but not _why_.

“Oh, I’m sure you have _something_.” Her eyes narrowed at his secretive smirk, but he did not elaborate. “You should be more interested in what _I_ can do for _you_.”

“…What?”

That was better. Much more familiar.

“I can give you your freedom.” He promised, the seductive promise hitting Belle right where it hurt. “As you’ve probably noticed, penniless exile is not the freedom you seek.”

Belle swallowed. She’d always felt trapped and confined by the restrictions of her royal life bound to duty and tradition. But she’d always been well cared for, fed, and surrounded by her father’s court. As smothering as that felt, being out here was ten times worse. Now she was trapped by her own poverty and lack of skills to a life of nothing. And knowing she was helpless to alter her state made her feel far more trapped than she’d ever been as a princess.

It was nothing like the freedom she’d envisioned as a child.

And now, here was a dark creature offering her a way out. It was a tale straight out of one of her stories and he was the villain. She knew what she should do, what one of her heroes would have done. But she _couldn’t._

“H-how are you going to do that?”

A knowing smirk, a flip of his hand, and suddenly – _gold_.

Three huge spools of spun gold, enough to make her father drool in greed. But that wasn’t important.

The golden thread was an indicator, a well-known calling card for one particular creature who Belle had researched quite thoroughly while learning her dragon spell: The Dark One. She should be running as fast as possible in the opposite direction; there was nothing worth paying a price of his devising.

But that also wasn’t important.

It was _gold_.

Dragons _loved_ gold. The sight, the smell, the touch, the taste…they lusted for it more than anything else and hoarded it jealously. Dragon-fever was a common name for gold-lust, greed in its rawest form, and many a knight and prince had slain a dragon to gain the treasure in its horde. Many had also killed to regain gold stolen by a dragon or killed a dragon that had sniffed out a royal vault.  
Dragons and gold were irreversibly connected.

And Belle, much though she currently looked human, was now a dragon.

Spellbound, she took one step forward, then another, flaring her nostrils and subconsciously calling on her draconic sense of smell to inhale the scent of gold.

“Careful dearie.” The Dark One was amused, noting her reaction and correctly guessing the source. With another flick of his wrist, the thread vanished from his hands. “That’s not yours. Well, not yet.”

Her eyes, pupils now slitted and betraying her draconic nature since she’d called upon the transformation, fixed on him with frightening intensity.

Rumpelstiltskin knew all about gold lust, though he’d never experienced it himself, and he knew she was hooked. She might not even use the gold once the deal was done; dragons rarely let go of anything in their hoard and his gold would be a good start if that’s what she desired.

“Well?” He grinned and held out one scaly, claw-tipped hand to shake and seal the deal. “Do we have a deal?”

She didn’t respond. Her nostrils flared and her head quirked in a quick, almost avian movement. The humanity was fading from her form; even as he watched, small blue scales started appearing around her neck and sharp ivory claws grew from her fingernails.

He was waiting for her to bow to his wishes, her human mind noticed with more than a little annoyance; did he think she was that desperate, to not even ask what he wanted in return? But her dragon mind was a far stronger force, and it was still stuck on gold. The smell, the need, the _desire_ …

…And the fact that the Dark One _smelled like gold_.

She cocked her head to the other side and noticed that even his skin glinted in the sunlight, as if he was literally made of gold. The scent was ingrained into him; his skin, his hands, his clothes, his very hair…and of _course_ it was, hadn’t he been making gold for longer even than she’d been alive? He was _perfect_.

She stepped towards him, emitting a low rumbling growl, disingenuous in her still-human form. It wasn’t aggression – more like an assertion of will, a demand.

Rumpelstiltskin skipped backwards, startled and suddenly wary. He hadn’t been expecting an attack, though he was equipped to deal with it if need be. But he got the impression that something else was going on here. The dragon-princess’s eyes were now inhuman and as blue as the scales coming in over her neck and arms, but that same look – that _lust_ – he’d seen in her eyes for the gold was still there. It had simply transferred to _him_.

And that was enough to knock him off-kilter, putting him off his game.

“Easy, dearie!” He barked after a long moment, tone not quite as confident as he intended as he watched her head dip and her feet begin to slide forward - a classic hunting posture. “What seems to be the problem?”

Belle paused, consciously forcing herself not to stalk the strange imp like a cat with a mouse. The scent of gold was drowning out most human comprehension, but she could still understand him – it was just the dragon that was deciding how to respond.

“You smell like gold.” She rasped, voice deeper than it had been and slightly slurred from the growing fangs changing the shape of her mouth.

“…Ah.” Unexpected indeed. Though Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t sure why that mattered; he obviously wasn’t made of gold, and he’d offered her true gold for the deal. “Will that be a problem?”

Belle stopped and considered, trying to clear her head. “What do you want?”

“Pardon?”

“For the deal.” She took a step forward and he took a wary step back, drawing a far-too-sharp smile to her increasingly draconic features. “You want to give me gold. What do you want in return?”

“Merely a few scales, my dear. Say, a dozen?” He flourished his hand, trying to ignore how his power play was going so wrong. Now she was starting to circle him and he was on the verge of teleporting further away, just to escape her probing, predatory behavior. “Do we have a deal?”

Scales. She could part with some scales. It was a measure of how much the dragon was in control that she didn’t even wonder why he wanted her scales. 

“You can have the scales, but I don’t want the thread. I want _you_.”

Rumpelstiltskin froze. Blinked. Cocked his head, smirked at the joke, realized she was _serious,_ and finally skittered away with a nervous chuckle.

“I-ah-I’m afraid I am not for sale, your _highness_.” He mocked the title, making a futile effort to return to the high ground in their negotiations. “The deal is my gold, for your scales.”

“No.” Belle frowned at him. “Maybe…I could go with you? You’d be with me.”

The possessiveness in her voice made him shiver, but he did not dismiss her words out of hand. The price of his company was a price he could pay…if he so chose. And having a dragon around would be useful…

“And what, precisely, would that entail?”

She shrugged. “You, your gold…You look like…you smell like…” she sighed, unable to put her feelings into words, and he hummed in consideration.

“I don’t take kindly to intruders in my home, my dear. But perhaps…”

“Yes?”

“If you would be my…hm…assistant, say, for a month or so…”

“A year.”

“Definitely not. Three months.”

“Eight.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“…Fine. Six months. In exchange for twelve of your scales, when you are fully transformed. Do we have a deal?”

Belle grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Deal.”

And then she let go.

The princess vanished In a cloud of magic and dust kicked up from the surroundings, replaced by the massive growing form of a huge dragon. 

Rumpelstiltskin teleported a short distance away, but remained close enough to watch as she unfolded; well over twenty feet long and ten feet tall at the shoulder with a long sinuous neck and wide, graceful wings that folded neatly along her spine. Her teeth and talons were bone white and she had a fringe of deep brown fur running down her back, ending in a tuft at the tip of her long scaly tail. Her scales were only a shade or two darker than the sky and when she turned to look at him, he found that her eyes were the same bright blue they’d been as a human, and set in a surprisingly soft-featured reptilian face without any horns or spines. But when her muzzle crinkled up in what could have easily been a smile or a snarl, revealing the sharp points of teeth were attached to ivory daggers as long as his hand, he couldn’t keep himself from shuddering slightly.

“Six months.” He reminded, voice not quite as strong as he’d hoped. “And you’ll give me twelve scales.”

The dragon rumbled in approval and blew a smoke ring at him playfully, which he dodged, thoroughly unsettled.

Six months. He could do six months. He was the Dark One, after all.

Rumpelstiltskin studiously ignored the smile on the dragon’s face, and the almost possessive way her eyes followed him as he stepped up to take the scales he’d dealt for.

* * *

**Notes about this universe:**

-Belle’s primary form is as a dragon now. Being human feels unnatural to her, even if it is necessary sometimes.

-Rumpelstiltskin has no idea what to do with her, but when she _looks_ at him like that, it makes him uneasy so he tends to avoid her unless she seeks him out. Which she does. Often. As a dragon.

-As a dragon, Belle is very, very strong and her hide and fangs are magic-proof. This comes in handy when Rumple is being his recalcitrant, grumpy self. (Not that he _enjoys_ being scruffed like a naughty kitten, but Belle thinks it's funny.)


	2. Prompt 1

**Prompt:** @white-throated-packrat For the Dragon Verse – Belle keeps trying to amass a hoard, and that includes picking up Rumple like a kitten and plopping him on top of it so she doesn’t lose him. 

* * *

When Belle was living on her own, the differences between her new mind and her old mind were not really an issue. She’d focused entirely on survival, on trying to make use of her new instincts, and on trying to train her dragon-body to, well, _act_ like a dragon. Because despite all of the changes to her mind, her physical form was not equipped to put draconic instincts into motion; she was like a newborn hatchling learning to hunt, camouflage, find shelter, and all the million other small learned behaviors necessary for the survival of a wild animal. Without a parent or a guide to teach her what to do, her solo efforts were doomed to fail.

However, in the presence of the Dark One, survival wasn’t such a problem. Suddenly, she had access to cooked food and live prey, shelter in the castle, and a reluctant guide who, while not a dragon himself, knew quite a bit about her species. He was also companionship in some strange (reluctant) way, which she had been sorely lacking since her transformation. Once the bare necessities were taken care of, Belle came to realize that the way her mind worked had changed _significantly_.

Her human self would have been fascinated by the Dark Castle, with all of its artifacts and history, the stories and experiences her host guarded, but she would also have been frightened of him and wary about his intentions even after discovering that her new scales were magic-proof. Her dragon self, however, did not care about the artifacts unless they glittered and shone like precious jewels and metal, and had far more instinctual understandings and desires.

When her dragon-self looked at the Dark Castle from the outside, it saw an unclaimed territory ripe for the taking, a perfect place to build a nest and gather a hoard. On the inside, it was full of cramped tunnels, the burrow of ground-dwelling prey and useful as a hunting ground but not for building a nest. And when it looked at the Dark One, fear was the farthest thing from its mind.

Rumpelstiltskin did not smell like prey, predator, or competition. He smelled like gold, glittered like gold, and had a burrow full of shiny things. He’d also welcomed Belle into his burrow, reluctantly but of his own free will, and made himself the collateral in their magically binding deal.

As such, he was _hers_. Her golden treasure to possess and protect, to hold close and admire.

…The dichotomy between Belle’s human and dragon sides was difficult to handle, and grew more so with every day as the line between them blurred and Belle-the-human merged Belle-the-dragon within her mind. In the library of the Dark One, Belle researched dragons and learned about their physiology and behavior, their needs and wants, and set about trying to figure out how they applied to her.

She started with the one that weighed most heavily on her mind, that the dragon within knew she _needed_ , more than food, shelter, or companionship: gathering a hoard.

It was surprisingly easy to get started. Gathering the shiny objects around the Dark One’s castle was out of the question (even if that was what her instincts urged her to do), but she was not a prisoner and it was simple to fly around the countryside, sniffing out bands of thieves and highwaymen to target. She didn’t kill them, but a few well-aimed fireballs and roars sent them running and, hopefully, made them reconsider their life choices. It wasn’t remarkably lucrative (most travelers had pennies at most) but it added up. Her first acquisition, secreted away far behind the Dark Castle, in the cave she’d claimed for her nest when she’d been in dragon form, only contained a bundle of copper coins and a few low-quality golden rings. The next group brought in three gold coins on top of their copper fare, and the one after brought in ten silver pieces and a jeweled bracelet. Some had more, some had less, but over time, her trove gradually built up.

It was remarkably easy to lose herself in the treasure, simply staring at the way it shone and memorizing how it looked in the center of her cave, and how much more she would be able to fit.

However, there was one thing missing: Rumpelstiltskin. He had been the first treasure in her hoard, and he was not in her cave, had never even seen her cave. Belle _knew_ she should leave well enough alone, be grateful for what she had and fear the Dark One like any sensible person.

But, oh, the urge to just snatch him up and spirit him away was _strong_. He was _hers_. He _belonged_ with her treasure, (he _was_ her treasure) to be possessed and protected.

For weeks, Belle managed to shut down the desire, instead focusing on getting to know him, hoping exposure to the dangerous Dark One, would cool her dragon’s greed and allow her human good sense to take priority. However, his actions were not cruel or malevolent enough to support his claims of ‘ultimate evil’- it took less than two weeks for her to realize he was all bark and very little bite. And when Belle’s human side stopped being frightened and instead became eager to know him better and seek out his presence, in full cooperation with her dragon side, Belle knew she was in trouble.

* * *

It all came to a head one day when Rumpelstiltskin and Belle ran into each other right outside of the Dark Castle, him returning from a deal that had gone badly and her returning from a bandit-hunting mission that had not yielded any results. They were both in a bad mood and when the Dark One stepped under her snout on his way into the castle, sniping irritably at her for her being in his way, the dragon snapped.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t even notice Belle’s ire until a giant snout nipped him on the back of his collar, hefting him into the air. He yelped and flailed, lashing out magically and physically in surprise, but not managing to hit anything. Belle was a good ten feet tall at the shoulder, and her head could reach half again that when she held it high, so he dangled quite far above the ground, suspended awkwardly by his scruff.

He spat empty threats and yowled in anger, but it did nothing to gain him freedom. Belle even sat back on her haunches, her four-legged body relaxing as he kicked and flailed, struggling with all the scant physical might in his small body(magic was useless against her scales - they’d discovered that early on). She was patient - waiting easily for him to get through his hissy fit and tire. Finally, panting and fuming, he went still, a low growl vibrating in the back of his throat.

His captor let out a low rumble of amusement and a puff of warm, smoke-scented breath washed over him, irritating him even more.

“Well?” He crossed his arms, trying to sound intimidating despite his circumstances. “It appears I am a captive audience. _Enlighten_ me as to the purpose of… _this_.”

Belle snorted at his tone, emitting a puff of warm smoke that enveloped her captive, causing him to cough and close his eyes. Then, suddenly, he was _moving_.

“Wha-?” It took him a few seconds to realize the dragon was _carrying_ him, striding easily through the long and twisted pathways of his estate at a leisurely walk. Her long legs ate up the distance easily, transporting him away from the castle, and she showed no sign of being so much as inconvenienced by his weight, or of turning around. “ _Belle_! Put me _down_!”

A deep rumble from her chest was an obvious ‘no’ and he kicked out, struggling once again in a fit of pique. He was summarily ignored, and could only hang there like a scruffed kitten, watching the ground go by far below his feet.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, dearie.” He growled eventually, voice low and irritated.

The satisfied purr he got in response was not reassuring.

It didn’t take too long to reach their destination; a crack in one of the many rocky cliff faces that decorated his property (the Dark Castle’s location in the mountains meant there were many such craggy mountain sides on his property) and Belle ducked her head to get inside, never once putting him down or letting his feet touch the ground. It wasn’t until they’d squeezed through the tunnel opening and emerged into the cavern beyond, revealing a small pile of gold, silver, and copper coins with a few pieces of jewelry mingled in that Rumpelstiltskin got the faintest clue of what was going on.

He watched with bemused annoyance as the dragon proudly carried him over to the pile and dropped him right in the center of her trove, sending a cascade of coins rolling off in every direction. He landed in a crouch on all fours, feet nearly sliding out from under him on the shifting coins, and looked around in confusion until she leaned close and _sniffed_ him deeply, then sniffed the coins and sat back with an eminently satisfied air.

Finally, remembering her desire to possess him the day they’d met and the covetous gold-lust of all dragons, Rumpelstiltskin connected the dots and shifted on his feet, irritation turning to uncertainty.

“I don’t think so, dearie.” He finally snapped and vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is installment #4 for the Monster Month prompt fills - there will be one more in this verse before the end of the month.
> 
> Enjoy! And please let me know what you think. :)


	3. Prompt 2

**_A Healing Touch_ **

**Prompt** : @iambicdearie: Dragon!Verse: Rumple wakes up with Belle curled around him.

_This got a bit more angsty than expected..._

* * *

 Three months after Belle moved into the Dark Castle, Rumpelstiltskin got in a fight with the Blue Fairy. It was a petty battle, full of spiteful insults, curses, and fairy dust. It ended on a sour, dissatisfying note with both combatants retreating to lick their injuries and stew, but no true victor.

Rumpelstiltskin staggered back to the Dark Castle covered in fairy dust that stung his injuries and aggravated the broken bones that could not set right with fairy magic in the way. His ire at the Blue Fairy faded quickly into bone-deep exhaustion and an aching all-encompassing pain. He opened the front door of his castle with an automatic flick of his hand and limped into the entryway. Rationally, he knew he should get rid of the fairy dust first but instead he found his faltering steps leading him to his spinning wheel.

He fell onto the stool with a pained grunt and leaned his forehead against the smooth wood, allowing the familiar pressure to drive away his burgeoning headache. But even as that relatively minor pain decreased, the pain from his injuries increased and his vision darkened at the edges. As the Dark One, he did not need to sleep, but he could still be knocked out (though only from the very worst of magical injures and maladies) and he could feel the dimming of sensation, the numbing of his fingertips, and the fuzziness of his mind that foretold a bout of unconsciousness.

He knew he should get rid of the fairy dust first but he couldn’t build up enough energy to fumble free the clasps of his coat.

Slumped against his wheel and still glittering and smarting from the effects of his battle, Rumpelstiltskin slipped into darkness.

* * *

Belle knew something was wrong when she found the front door of the Dark Castle swinging wide open. These days, she spent more of her time flying around the countryside searching for bandits to divest of their ill-gotten gains or curled around the increasingly respectable trove in her cave than wandering the castle itself, but she still liked the building and its prickly owner.

Especially its owner.

The first time she’d snatched him up and taken him to her hoard, she’d half feared what he would do in revenge but other than a few wary side-glances and a stubbornly dogged persistence at ignoring it had ever happened at all, he had not reacted. He’d probably hoped to avoid an uncomfortable situation but Belle took it as encouragement. So far, she’d managed to sneak up on him four times and he’d yet to figure out how to react to being considered one of her treasures.

Today, she was coming into the castle to replenish her supply of books and hopefully find Rumpelstiltskin in a good mood. Even when she wasn’t stalking him like a cat with a mouse, she found his presence relaxing and he was an engaging conversation partner. She didn’t know which part of her found the presence of the Dark One soothing but simply reading in his presence - especially if she caught him spinning, when he was at his least guarded and most relaxed – could unwind her stress. Belle intended to curl up on the couch and read through her newest book, listening to the soothing creak of his wheel.

Instead, she found the doors hanging open and a bitter, cold scent lingering in front of the door along with the scent of blood. Rumplestiltskin’s blood.

Belle’s eyes widened and she dashed through the doorway, unconsciously calling on her dragon senses to follow the discordant scents – one familiar, the other foreboding. She followed them straight to his spinning wheel.

“Rumpelstiltskin?” It took her a moment to register that the small, slumped figure dripping blood and liberally coated in shimmering rainbow dust was the Dark One. And he was unconscious. “Rumple!”

She rushed forward, dropping the books in her arms and reaching his side in record time. For a moment, she dithered, hands hovering unsure over his shoulders until she gently tipped him back and took in his surprisingly peaceful features.

He was coated in the bitter dust and a smattering of deep red spots – blood, though a cautious sniff told her not all of it was his. Something about that dust pinged her instincts, making her uneasy and defensive.

Whatever it was, it was dangerous.

She hovered over the Dark One, hands suspended in indecision. Her human half told her he was injured, that he needed to be taken to a healer immediately – but she did not know where she could find one, or even if Rumpelstiltskin’s physiology was close enough to a human for one to help. Her dragon-self wanted to snatch him up and carry him to safety, squirrel him away in her cave where no one could find or hurt him. Had her human side known what to do, it probably would have won out on practicality alone but beyond ‘get someone to help’, she had no idea – as a princess, Belle had always had someone else to handle such matters. Tentatively, she turned to her dragon instincts.

She could feel the fangs itching at her gums and the claws nipping the tips of her fingers as she gently pulled Rumpelstiltskin up to lean heavily on her shoulder. She hissed when the powder rubbed against her sprouting scales, stinging her skin, and paused just long enough to strip off Rumpelstiltskin’s stiff dragon hide coat, taking a good deal of the dust with it, but revealing ominous red splotches seeping through his shirt.

She left the coat discarded on the floor as she half-carried, half dragged the imp to the door using her changing form and enhanced strength to get him outside before allowing her form to unfold completely.

She rushed the transformation, hurrying to her full dragon self without taking her eyes off the body lying limp at her feet. A long, concerned sniff when she was fully transformed confirmed her earlier diagnosis. As gently as possible, she snagged the collar of his shirt in her teeth and rushed to her cave.

The whole trip, her burden was worryingly limp, mere dead weight in her jaws. Once inside, she set him down and crooned in concern, nudging his unresponsive form.

Nothing.

Her dragon instincts were taking over in her distress and she found herself licking one of his injuries, cleaning it as best she could and getting a mouthful of the bitter dust.

She snorted, crinkling her snout, but when the spark of magic in the dust faded as it came into contact with her body, her focus narrowed. More importantly, she noticed the scent of it on him diminished.

That was enough to tell her what to do.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to cradle him between her paws and set about cleaning his wounds, ridding him of the horrible bitter dust and, once it was gone, washing his wounds as they slowly began to heal.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin woke up to the sound of deep, even breathing, feeling as weak as the spinner he’d once been and utterly confused about where he was. With some trepidation, the Dark One forced his heavy eyelids to open and stared blankly at the glittering blue scale mere inches from his face. Familiar scales.

He blinked.

On instinct he tried to recoil but pain shot through his nerves and he instantly stopped, biting back an agonized whimper. His mind was alarmingly slow but he could not seem to draw up the energy to become upset or worried.

For a long moment, he simply lay there and breathed, observing his surroundings and avoiding pain. Memories slowly returned as he absorbed the situation.

He was curled up next to Belle, nestled in the curve of her long scaly body with her tail cradling him from behind, the tuft on the end serving as a sort of pillow. The golden coins beneath him (proof that he was once again in the midst of her hoard) were warm from their combined body heat and she was a smooth, living wall holding him in place. By her even breathing, he could tell she was asleep.

Remembrance of his conflict with the Blue Fairy came slowly and he grimaced, realizing he must have passed out before he could get rid of the fairy dust and Belle had taken it upon herself to keep him safe. His coat was gone and he could feel that the dust had been cleaned from his wounds, skin, and hair.

Considering his current company, he had a very good idea how that had happened.

The Dark One waited for anger, fear, and humiliation to hit, for his magic to rise up around him and lash out at the sheltering dragon, but it didn’t come.

The combined effects of the fairy dust and Belle’s magic-blocking properties had dulled his curse, leaving him without the constant negative influence. Instead, he felt drained. Achy, pained and just plain exhausted.

And Belle was a warm and welcoming presence, the only person (creature?) to touch him without malice since Cora.

Before his curse could recover and talk him out of it, or Belle could wake up and embarrassment force his retreat, Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes drifted closed and his body relaxed as consciousness fled again. Maybe, by the next time he woke up, his body and curse would be recovered and his behavior would be back to normal.

Until then, he slept in the dragon’s protective embrace, temporarily at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! And please let me know what you think. :)


	4. Prompt 3

**_An Uninvited Guest_ **

**Prompt** : @rumpleshtiltskin: Regina visits. Belle doesn't like the infringement on her territory (namely Rumple's personal space).

* * *

Somehow, Rumpelstiltskin had never considered that having a dragon in residence would affect his business deals at all. After all, he was the _Dark One_ , a far more dangerous foe than a simple dragon and if someone was willing to brave _him_ , surely they wouldn’t mind Belle? It wasn’t like she was party to any of his deals and he specifically asked her to leave his supplicants alone, even if they were not good people and came to his home carrying sizable amounts of gold and riches, normal targets for her fiery anger. Most of the time she stayed away from the castle entirely when he was making deals, well-aware that she was not welcome.

This worked well, for the most part, though rumors of a dragon ran rife through the surrounding communities. The peasants were terrified that she would move on from her preferred prey of bandits and burn down their homes and farms – dragons were known as vicious, greedy beasts with no respect for anyone but themselves. Even though Belle never left the wilds around the Dark Castle in dragon form, her presence left an impact. Rumple didn’t see that as his problem – if the peasants wanted to fear her, then that was perfectly fine with him.  The truly desperate would not be deterred from seeking him out and the less time he had to waste on anyone else the better.

What he didn’t expect was the reaction of the royals and other magic users, who all seemed to credit _him_ for Belle’s actions. In the first six months of her time at the Dark Castle, he was forced to dispatch three times as many knights in shining armor out to make a name for themselves by slaying the Dark One. None of them went for Belle, of course, just him. It was strange but easily dealt with. Other magic users obviously had their own opinions on the matter of ‘his’ dragon, but they were not so foolhardy as to anger him by saying something negative to his face.

All other magic users but one, that is.

Regina saw nothing wrong with waltzing straight through his front door uninvited and informing him about the recent turn that the rumors had taken, to his displeasure.

“Pulling a Maleficent, Rumple?” Somehow she managed to sneer and smirk at the same time, quite an accomplishment. “I thought such mimicry was beneath you.”

He eyed her out of the corners of his eyes in irritation, refusing to turn his attention from his wheel to indulge her desire for attention. She wouldn’t be there if she wasn’t fishing for something, and he wasn’t inclined to give her whatever it was, not after that entrance. Ignoring his distaste, she advanced into the room and lit on the nearest chair – Belle’s favorite chair. The edge of Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth twisted downwards when the evil queen made herself comfortable as if she belonged there.

“Just what are you implying, dearie?” He snapped, warning Regina with his dark tone. Characteristically, she ignored his anger. If she weren’t necessary for his plans, he would have quite happily taught her a lesson in _respect –_ namely in the consequences of disrespecting the darkest and most powerful sorcerer in existence _._

She merely laughed and waved an arm clad in elegant black satin, brushing away his anger as if it didn’t exist. “I’m talking about your recent penchant for terrorizing the peasants as a dragon. I wouldn’t say it’s _creative_ , but it’s certainly _effective._ ”

“My _what?”_ Finally, he looked up and fixed his gaze on hers, obviously what she’d been waiting for because she leaned forward eagerly.

“Are you saying that you _aren’t_ the Dark Dragon? Everyone who’s seen it claims it lives here, and you have to admit, you bear a certain resemblance. There aren’t that many scaly sorcerers in the Enchanted Forest, you know.”

“I’m the Dark One, dearie.” He replied flatly, unamused. “There are no others like me. And I have certainly _not_ been transforming into a dragon. Also ‘ _The Dark Dragon’_? That is a ridiculous title.”

“Oh, really? I suppose that means it’s a wild beast. And, if it isn’t you, then it must be as much of a nuisance for you as it has been for me. That blasted lizard has robbed five of my men in the past month and four the month before that.” This time, her sneer was angrier but also more relaxed – apparently the new anger was not aimed at him. “I’d thought you were making a statement, and perhaps I should drop by to make one in return.”

“And just _what_ were your men doing in my forest?” He was amused to find that Belle had accidentally irritated Regina – but not that Regina had been a position to be affected by her patrols of the Dark Forest in the first place. Nor was he impressed by her apparent intention to threaten him.

“Carrying messages and the like.” Regina tried to brush it off, but he caught the way her eyes darted towards the door, not quite nervous but close enough to make him suspicious – she hadn’t meant to let that slip. “You haven’t been responding to my messages, so the dragon is obviously interfering and-.”

“Lies, Regina? Really?” It was his turn to sneer. He rose from his stool slowly, in obvious threat. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what you’re _really_ doing here?”

“Honestly, Rumple, you’re so _suspicious._ I can see there’s no use talking to you today.” Regina rose, aiming to retreat elegantly and pretend it had been her idea to withdraw. The tense line of her shoulders spoiled the image for Rumple’s practiced eye, but he let her go – he’d find out what she was hiding in due time, and use it to his own benefit.

He followed her out of the room and the main door, staying close enough behind her to keep her on edge. Whenever he stepped a little too close to her, clicking his shoes loudly and breathing near her neck, she sped up slightly, apparently unconsciously and he made a game of forcing her to speed up and slow down, eroding her dignity a little more every time. By the time Regina realized what he was doing, there was no salvaging her image.

In the courtyard, she turned towards him with a cold smile on her face and dark, angry eyes. Rumpelstiltskin had no cause to be worried; she might be a sorceress but he was the _Dark One_ – his power would _always_ be superior to hers; but he still paused and cocked his head, willing to listen to whatever empty threats she cared to levy against him today. And respond with his own, much more feasible and appropriate threats, of course.

“You know, Rumple, you should be a bit more _respectful_.” Her tone was biting.

“Oh? And why is that?” He was now fully amused – whatever anger and irritation he’d felt earlier had melted in his enjoyment of irritating her.

“Because you never asked what statement I was going to make!” Regina’s hand snapped upwards, holding something that was already surrounded by a ball of toxic black magic and too late, Rumple remembered her words about repaying ‘his attacks’ on her men.

Before he could respond – and before Regina could complete her spell – an ear-shattering roar sounded above them. Rumple was now used to such a sound, a great booming howl unlike anything else in Enchanted Forest, and did not react, but Regina cried out and clapped her hands over her ears, instinctively crouching as a massive shadow approached overhead. The heavy flapping of massive wings filled the air around them as the shadow circled above and dust stirred from the sudden wind, settling on the evil queen’s signature black dress and turning it the color of ash.

Rumple did not look up as the sound of a massive body landing behind him resounded through the courtyard (though he did wince a little internally at the thought of Belle’s dragon-form landing on his roof – she definitely wasn’t light and the castle was old) – instead, he remained staring at Regina with a fixed smirk on his face.

“What was that you were saying about a ‘Dark Dragon’, dearie?”  He snarked. The queen’s wide eyes darted between him and Belle in dawning comprehension and anger.

“You…” Her word was a snarl. “It _is_ your fault!”

“Well, _I’m_ certainly not the dragon in question.” He danced forward a few steps in a manner designed to unnerve, but Regina did not quaver. “I never said I didn’t _know_ the dragon.”

“ _You…!_ ”

Magic blossomed in her hands again, dark and ugly, and Rumple prepared to smack her down in a duel – but Belle reacted first.

The dragon roared in rage and suddenly Rumple found himself snatched up in a giant clawed paws, clutched under the arms by scaly hands that wrapped around his entire torso. Regina didn’t even notice what happened to him because Belle’s next action was to snap forward her long neck and let out a torrent of flame at the offending sorceress.

Regina stumbled backwards with an humiliating yelp, trying to avoid being roasted, all sense of dignity lost, and tried to yell to him and demand that he make Belle stop. Her multiple attempts at calling out were nearly indistinguishable from the roar of flames and eventually she gave up and lunged gracelessly into her carriage, using magic to send it rolling away at breakneck speed.

Unlike the sorceress, Rumple was not threatened by the flames – because he was still clutched to the dragon’s chest like a toy and no matter how hard he squirmed, she refused to let him go. He was able to shoot preservation spells at his castle, grounds, and trees so that nothing else burned in the flames, but dragonfire was not so easily extinguished – one could only remove its fuel and wait for it to burn itself out. Especially when he could not get _near_ it!

“Belle!” He yelled. “Let me _go_!”

Her giant wedge-shaped head turned towards him and he found himself thoroughly examined by a very concerned dragon. He tried to push her nose away when she sniffed worriedly at him, looking for blood or foreign magic, but she didn’t want to let him go and his magic was useless against her scales.

“I’m _fine!_ Put me _down!”_

Unfortunately, she didn’t seem in any hurry to believe or obey him. In fact, she didn’t let him out of her grasp until Regina’s carriage had left the Dark Forest altogether and thefire had burned to ash. When she was finally satisfied that he was safe again, she let him go and he vanished into the Dark Castle in an irritated huff, refusing to turn around when massive paw-steps transformed into quiet footsteps that followed him back to his wheel, and Belle settled into her habitual chair near his side.

She was undeniably much better company than Regina, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! And please let me know what you think. :)


	5. Prompt 4

_**Flying Beyond the Sky** _

**Prompt** : @Anonymous: Dragon!Belle does a little research and discovers something that may be important: dragons can fly to other worlds.

* * *

 “Rumple?”

“Hm?”

“Do I have any special magical abilities as a dragon?”

Rumple looked up from his spinning with a confused blink, turning his gaze on Belle where she was sitting in a plush chair by the fire. She had a thick tome in one hand and a skein of golden thread wrapped around the other, regularly running it through her fingers and sighing at the sight, smell, and feel of it. (She must have taken it from one of his store rooms while he wasn’t looking. By this point, he was sure at least half of her trove was composed of his thread. But if it kept her from trying to make _him_ one of her treasures, he was just fine with that.) Her focus was on the book and her brow was furrowed in concentration and confusion.

Curious, Rumple pushed back his stool and walked over to look over her shoulder at what she was reading. Obligingly, she tilted it so he could see the title.

_Mikkael’s Draconica_

He snorted contemptuously.

“I should think you know better than to believe anything you find in rubbish like that. _You_ know far more about dragons than whatever fool wrote that book.”

“Rumple!” Belle was well-accustomed to his scorn by now, to the point where she shot him an amused, exasperated look rather than being offended. “I’m hardly well-learned on the subject even if I do have some, er, ‘practical experience’.”

It was Rumple’s turn to snicker. A sound that Belle valiantly ignored.

“It’s just, he seems to have everything right so far. I’ve heard of all of the breeds he lists as local, the sizes and physical traits are right, he talks about dragons’ attraction to gold and ability to breathe fire…”

“Something any brain-dead knight could tell you.”

“I’ve known plenty of knights and none of them could list dragon breeds, I’ll have you know. But what I’m really interested in is this chapter on magical abilities.”

“Hm?” He prompted her when she petered off hesitantly.

“Well, most of them belong to eastern dragons or those that live in extreme climates like Arendelle or Agrabah, but there is one trait that might be found in the Enchanted Forest. I mean, I’m not a _real_ dragon, I know that, and a natural dragon would not have the discipline or intelligence to learn magic but-.”

“Belle.” He cut off her rambling. “What are you talking about?”

She looked up at him, blue eyes wide and slightly slitted, a sign of her dragon-self peeking through. “The ability to fly between worlds.”

Rumple froze. The world seemed to screech to a halt around him. Finding Bae was always close to the front of his mind, no matter how distracted he became, and suddenly their conversational diversion was extremely important.

“Let me see that.”

Startled by the harshness of his tone, Belle surrendered the book without protest, watching as he snatched it up and flipped swiftly through the pages, reading impossibly, inhumanly fast. It quickly became obvious that there was something wrong; after reading only a few sentences, Rumple yanked the book wide open so hard that the binding creaked in protest. (Belle had to bite her tongue to stifle a protest against such book abuse.) Then he started pacing frantically, walking circuits of the room so fast that Belle’s head spun from trying to keep track of him. It quickly became apparent that he’d forgotten her presence entirely. In fact, it was necessary for her to pull her legs up onto the chair to avoid tripping him on accident.

Even her draconic instincts wanted to flinch away in unease; the Dark One’s power was escaping his control, causing the very flagstones beneath her feet to vibrate and the artifacts littering the room to rattle alarmingly. That had _never_ happened before. Not even at his angriest had he released even a flicker more power than he’d intended.

He read through the entire chapter twice, flipping through the pages faster than Belle had thought possible even for him, then re-read the passage she’d pointed out to him a dozen more times. As he devoured the words, his hands started to shake and by the time he finally looked up from the book, they were trembling so badly that he could barely hold it straight.

Finally, he stopped pacing and simply stared at Belle, eyes wide and glassy. There was no sign that he actually knew she was there. For the normally alert Dark One, this was extremely out of character and Belle could only stand the leaden silence for a minute before breaking.

“So…it _is_ true?” She ventured cautiously.

His eyes abruptly snapped into focus, piercing her with such an intense, desperate stare that she flinched backwards in unease. He was the Dark One, all knowing and always confident. What could he possibly be desperate about? What could make him look so vulnerable?

“I…don’t know.” His voice was smaller than she’d ever heard it, entirely different from his usual self. “It might be. Yes…it just might be. I need to research this.”

In a puff of purple smoke, he vanished with the book, leaving a very concerned dragon in his wake.

* * *

 It was a week before Belle saw him again. During the first three days, she patrolled the Dark Castle and surrounding mountains, counted and polished her treasure, went flying for the sheer pleasure of feeling the wind rushing past her wings, and ultimately tried not to worry about Rumpelstiltskin or his bizarre reaction to her simple question. He’d expressed his irritation about her prying into his personal affairs in the past and whenever she tried, the fallout seemed to cause strife between them so this time, she did _try_ to leave him alone.

However, nothing distracted her from her worry. Even a few shiny golden baubles that she liberated form a bandit on the second day did not hold her attention more than a moment.

The most worrisome aspect of the situation was the silence. She’d been separated from Rumple before for much longer while he was away making deals (though never happily or gracefully) without feeling nearly as worried – but she’d always _known_ he was away and that he could take care of himself. Now, she knew he was in the castle somewhere but he’d completely isolated himself from her. When she finally gave in to her worry and started pacing the halls calling his name, he did not respond, not even to tell her to stop making noise. He wasn’t in his tower laboratory and he did not appear in a puff of smoke to yell at her to get out when she intruded, he wasn’t at his spinning wheel, he wasn’t in any of the libraries, bedrooms, ballrooms, dining areas, kitchens, or miscellaneous supply rooms…and when she started trying to force her way into the locked rooms that he’d expressly told her to avoid as a last ditch attempt to command his attention, there wasn’t so much as a peep uttered in protest.

After a week with no sign, Belle was nearly out of her mind with worry. He’d made no deals and his spinning wheel was actually getting dusty, something she was sure had never happened before. When she finally heard something as she passed an out of the way locked room in the West Wing (forbidden, but if he wanted her out he could damn well show up and tell her that himself), she didn’t even pause. With dragon-born strength, she smashed it open, knocking the lock clear out of the wall, and found herself confronted with Rumpelstiltskin.

He looked…human.

Oh, he still smelled of gold and magic and she was sure he was still covered in scales (though she could not currently see them) …but there was a certain _presence_ the Dark One usually projected that was even more integral to his persona than his magic and that was completely missing. He was sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, shoulders slumped and head drooping so that his face was obscured by his dangling hair. His hands were folded in on themselves, holding something that commanded his entire attention but which Belle could not make out. All in all, he looked more like a man who had made a bad deal with the Dark One rather than the Dark One himself.

Slowly, the young woman ventured into the room. She was torn between apologizing for interrupting and being angry that he had worried her so badly. However, he didn’t seem to notice her. Despite his physical health, the sense that there was still reason to worry weighed on her.

After a long moment of being ignored, she ventured a quiet, tentative: “Rumple?”

No response.

He had to have heard her in the dead silence, so she did not repeat herself. Instead, she looked around the room – not moving but examining it with her eyes.

It looked startlingly out of place in the Dark Castle. There was simple wooden furniture pushed up against the walls, rough but made with care and love – the work of an untrained peasant, not a woodcarver – a child-sized wooden bed with a sagging straw mattress, a crooked chest with a mismatched lid and broken latch at the foot, a rickety, unstable wooden stool, and dusty shelves on the other side of the room holding toys, clothes, and other similar everyday items – they would have been more at home in a peasant-child’s room rather than displayed as treasured trophies in a locked room of the Dark Castle.

Rumpelstiltskin was sitting on the bed, completely frozen.

Step by step, Belle made her way closer to him, waiting for him to realize she was there and fly into a rage. Her dragon instincts were more proactive, demanding that she curl around him and _fix_ him, regardless of what was actually wrong - but, with effort, she suppressed them.

After a good ten minutes, she was standing directly before him, still unacknowledged. And now she could see what was clasped between his hands: a picture.

A drawn picture of a child, a young boy with something very familiar about his features.

She wasn’t able to fully suppress her gasp, and this time, the imp’s entire body seemed to flinch. But he still did not look up.

“His name is Baelfire.” He explained, tone distant and lost. Belle wasn’t sure he even realized who he was talking to – it sounded like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“What happened to him?” After a long silence, Belle felt it necessary to prompt.

Rumple let out a shaky sigh and his head dipped even lower. His tone, when he finally spoke, was one of heartbreak. “I lost him. I…I _let him go._ ” He made it sound like the absolute worst fate in existence.

“What-what happened?” Tentatively, waiting every second for him to reject her violently or flee, Belle sat on the bed next to him.

And _finally_ his head came up, meeting her eyes with an expression that matched the loss and grief she’d heard in his voice. The Dark One had been entirely stripped away and, for the first time, she really felt that she was looking at _Rumpelstiltskin._

In halting words, the story gradually poured out. _His_ story, from long before he was the Dark One and her treasure, back to a simple peasant and his son, a war that could not be won, a monster who was really a man, a treacherous fairy willing to manipulate an innocent child, and a horrible mistake that had never stopped haunting him.

Midway through the story, Belle placed her hand on his leg but he didn’t notice. His eyes were half-lidded and hazy, lost in the past, and when he eventually ground to a halt, Belle understood everything. Baelfire had been lost to a different realm…and Rumple had just learned that dragons could fly between realms.

(For now, she would not consider the Blue Fairy’s cold-hearted manipulation and cruel decision _not_ to tell Rumple that there were other ways to travel to different realms. But she would not forget it.)

It only took a second for her to decide on her response.

“So, when do we leave?”

“Belle…” There was wonder in his expression, wonder for _her_ that made her chest swell and if she’d been in dragon form, she would have arched her neck and wings to preen. His dawning hope was both heartbreaking and heartwarming and she knew he was feeling that because _she_ was willing to help.

“Rumple.” Her hands came forward to cup his where they were still clutching Baelfire’s picture. “Let me help. Please.”

“…Okay. Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress his emotions. “ _Thank you._ ”

* * *

 Preparation to leave commenced instantly and it was a somber, tense affair. Rumple rushed around, trying to pack everything that might possibly be of use in the world without magic, leaking an air of barely suppressed desperation the entire time. He didn’t use magic, either; every action was accomplished with his own hands and reached using his own feet – entirely, worryingly uncharacteristic and human. Now, when she looked at him she did not see the Dark One – she saw a concerned father.

It would have been heartwarming if he hadn’t been so obviously terrified about traveling to the world without magic – another emotion she had never expected to see in him. Watching him flutter about in distress made her want to scoop him up and secret him away with the rest of her treasure, curl up around him and protect him until the cause of his fear passed.

Her human reasoning kept her from acting on that instinct, motivated by the knowledge of Rumpelstiltskin’s love for his son. He needed to feel and experience this before they could leave just as much as he needed to pack everything he could think of to keep himself alive without magic. He did not need to be protected and distracted.

However, he did not try to stop her from following him as he rushed about, nor did he try to pull away from her frequent touches that she couldn’t quite suppress every time he looked worried. Sometimes he didn’t seem to realize she was there and other times he actually seemed comforted, another vulnerability he’d never allowed himself in her presence before. Once, he actually let her hug him and stood shaking in her grip, calming but refusing to meet her eyes.

Gradually, a huge pile of supplies took shape in the main hall. Most of it was purely practical: food, clothes, clean water, and gold. If Belle hadn’t already known he’d once been a peasant, his choices would have made it obvious – there were few luxuries (which would have been the bulk of any noble’s choices) and those were precious magical artifacts that  that would be of great use if the world without magic held even a trace of magical energy. Her treasures – which he had graciously agreed to bring – made up the bulk of the frivolous trinkets. The final items to be added were a children’s ball, an aged shawl, and the picture that Rumple had been clutching the other day –handled like priceless, fragile treasures. The last thing Rumple did was ward the Dark Castle, making it impossible for anyone to find it or get inside – just in case they returned someday.

Half a day after Belle had learned of Baelfire’s existence, they were ready to go. On Rumple’s instruction, she transformed into her dragon form and he used magic to fit a harness over her back and chest and pack everything securely into place – he had a magical blue box that would hold everything, a ‘pocket realm’, but did not know if it would work in the world without magic and did not want to risk losing everything. If it _did_ work, they could pack it when they arrived.

Once it had all been arranged to his satisfaction, he transported himself onto her back in a puff of red smoke. She could feel the warm weight of him and when she lifted her head, he grabbed at her scales and molded himself to her spine as best he could.

There was something viscerally satisfying about carrying all of her treasure at once, including her imp. Especially since he _wanted_ to be with her and she was actually _helping_ him by doing this.

“Okay.” His tone was grim but he still clung to her gamely. “Let’s go!”

With a fierce bugling roar, Belle leapt into the air, leaving the Dark Castle and the Enchanted Forest behind.

* * *

 Rumple clung to Belle’s scales with dogged determination. He hated heights. Even knowing that his magic would save him if he fell off, there was a deep-rooted instinctual unease associated with having his feet so far up in the air – just another expression of his cowardice, he thought privately. Belle loved the feeling the wind in her face and the ‘freedom of the sky’, as she called it, but Rumple was much happier firmly planted on the ground.

However, that didn’t matter. If flying was the only way to reach Baelfire, then Rumple would not let his cowardice hold him back. Not again.

He couldn’t quite suppress a high-pitched grunt of panic (which was certainly _not_ a yelp) when Belle banked suddenly, the great sails of her wings arching to catch the wind so she could soar higher. She could not hear him over the rushing of the wind but she felt his white-knuckled grip dig into her neck and made a concerned crooning sound.

“Don’t slow down!” The Dark One snapped when she tried to moderate her flight to make him more comfortable. “We’re almost there!” His grip grew even tighter, pulling uncomfortably at the scales on either side of her spine.

Belle let out a gusting breath in a concerned sigh, but obeyed. She understood his urgency – she just wished it didn’t take such a toll on him. If he kept on in such a heightened state of tension, which seemed to be escalating the closer they came to their goal, then he’d be in no fit mental state to think clearly when they arrived.

For his sake, she hoped that their mission went the way that he wanted it to. If Baelfire rejected him after he’d spent nearly three hundred years fighting to find him or, worse, if the boy had perished after leaving the Enchanted Forest, it would break Rumple entirely. Not just his heart, but his mind and probably his soul. She’d never realized just how fragile he was until he told her about his past and his beloved son – or just how close he was to shattering.

It was surprisingly easy to break through the barriers between realms – she wasn’t even _breaking_ them, really. The _Draconica_ had not had much detail on how to actually accomplish the transfer, but Belle found that it was much like breathing fire: if she simply relaxed and allowed her dragon instincts to take over, interpreting her will, then it came easily.

Rumple was directing her using a locator spell powered by his own blood and Bae’s shawl so she had a clear heading when her instincts finally said _there_ and the leading edges of her wings began to prickle. It felt like flying through a thin sheet of paper, which stretched like rubber and then abruptly gave way…along with the world. Everything around them seemed to stretch and twist, the colors running together impossibly like melting wax as Belle beat past the barrier…and then they were separating again into the familiar sights of night sky and dark water with the faint dark lump of an island in the distance illuminated by moonlight.

It didn’t look like much. Just as Belle was wondering how an entire world could be so tiny, she felt Rumple startle badly against her back.

“What?” He snapped, voice loud and upset in the still night air. The edge of fear and suspicion in the tone alerted Belle to the fact that something was wrong. “This isn’t the world without magic. What are we doing _here?_ If you’re playing me, _dearie_ ….”

Belle made a protesting growl at the implied threat and arched her wings so that she could slow down and look over her shoulder at him in indignation. Her next growl was accompanied by a quelling look at the enchanted shawl that _Rumpelstiltskin_ was using to direct them.

If he felt any regret for his hasty words, he did not show it. Instead, he hastily re-applied the potion he’d used to cast the spell in the first place – and, when the result came up the same, he sent a direct tracking spell at the island. (And that use of magic rejected any possibility that this was the world without magic.)

Even Belle, untrained in any sort of sorcery other than her draconic abilities, could tell what the resulting white glow on the shawl indicated.

“He’s _here._ ” Rumple breathed. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax all at once, to the point where Belle worried he might lose his grip on her and fall…but then he went rigid, the relief sadly short lived and horror overcame him. “Bae’s _here._ In _Neverland._ With _Pan._ ”

After a brief struggle with his emotions, his face hardened into an impassive mask. His eyes fixed on the dark island on the horizon and his hands twisted against the dragon’s scales.

Without needing any more direction, Belle turned and flew for the island.

They would find Baelfire. They would save him. And they would bring him home.


End file.
